They should title this film "Doormat" since at no point does the heroine, Rae Schmidt, ever grow a spine and call out her stuffy, banker boyfriend on the callous way he treats her. Harlow sure as hell would have. And Babs would have carved the smug bore a new one. But not Rae. Instead, she hypocritically makes a stirring speech warning her friend against the very abject behavior in which she wallows. That I cared even a little bit about this weak, foolish woman, and stayed with this schmatz fest until the end, is due more to Irene Dunne's excellent performance than to any compelling interest in the story. Even in mediocre material like this it is always worthwhile to spend time with Ms. Dunne, the paragon of less is more acting in an era that canonized the opposite, especially with the femmes. Of all the 1930s leading ladies she is the one who you could plunk down in a "Madmen" episode and she'd fit right in.
Bottom line: See it for Irene and forget the rest. C plus.
Bottom line: See it for Irene and forget the rest. C plus.